The New Hampshire Gazette

The following letter is presumed to be from one of the Whig delegation from this town, to the Young Men's Whig Convention, assembled at Baltimore last week. It seems to have been written to his parents in this town, and intended by them for publication. If there was any inadvertency in sending it to us, instead of the Journal, the usual organ of whiggery, the editor of that paper can have it on application to this office. We hope the early publication we have given it, will not be considered as of any disadvantage to the parties concerned.

Master George's Letter to his Pa, from the Young Men's Convention at Baltimore.

BALTIMORE. May 5, 1840.

Dear PA,-The fact is, we had a whapper of a Convention yesterday. There were delegates from all parts of the world,-England, Ireland, France, Germany, and the d-l knows from where they didn't come. If Old Tip gets half the votes of this Convention, he surely will be elected, but not without "foreign influence," that's certain. I never saw the like,--there were men from the South with black servants, (male and female,) and from what I saw, I should think that many of the Southern members were real true abolitionists; men who went right into the matter. I don't know what to think of Old Tip; every man I have talked with, says he is nothing, and if he is elected, Daniel Webster will be President in fact, and that Old Tip must stand back and drink cider. Speaking of cider, you never saw the like; over a hundred barrels were tapped the first day, and every man had to take a right good swig; it was confounded hard, but as you told me to do just as others did, I drank so much that my eyes -how red they are! It was real sport to see the locos look on and see us chaps drink. One fellow asked me for a drop to cool his lips. After he took the great pitcher, (we all drank out of a pitcher,) and drank —oh! what a drink, --he asked me if that was the stuff Old Tip used? I told him yes; he laughed and put his finger up to his nose, kind of knowing, just as I do to the gals, and says he, now Mister, you must be a green one, for all the knowing ones drink a leetle better stuff than that; they take the real juice of the turnip. What a fool, wasn't he, Pa, to think we aristocrats would drink turnip juice; just as if Mr Webster drank turnip juice?

Our delegation said nothing at first: Ira looked like a lard porpoise; he swelled so that the cider oozed through his skin; little Jim pulled up his dickey and drew in his head like a mud turtle; Alex looked big, and talked of commerce, manufactures, agriculture, and so forth, and said their House would do no business this year, at least. Poor Harry, who took the fat boy's place, looks sad; he says he has been into the headquarters of the Cincinnati Tippecanoe Club, and has seen the actual petticoat of Old Tip, and, as far as he is capable of judging, it is no better than common petticoats. and that he don't believe the old lady will ever succeed. How differently men come to conclusions, reasoning upon the same premises; Mr. Webster declared publickly at the Eutaw House last night, that he never saw things look better under any flag; indeed, he said they looked as well as any man could wish.—

We all went to bed early, just as you told me. Our delegation slept in the same room; we had a fine old nurse to take care of us, and after she had put us all in bed, she sung that good old cradle hymn of Dr Watts' "Hush my babes, lie still and slumber." We all leave for Washington to-morrow. The Rail road Directors have reduced the fare from two dollars to one, for the delegates, and children half price, so, you see that it will cost us but fifty cents to go up, and fifty back, which will make a dollar.

I can't write any more now, but will tell you a heap more when I get home.

Your dutiful son,

GEORGE.

P. S. Daniel Webster shook hands with me yesterday, and asked me how my marm did.